


Lessons in Leadership

by UnnamedElement (Unnamed_Element)



Series: Writings from Wartime: The Fellowship (Collection) [5]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cultural Differences, Friendship, Gap Filler, Gen, Getting to know all about you, Getting to know you, Growth, Legolas & Aragorn negotiate some issues, Misunderstandings, Nobody likes my Aragorn but I do, Pride, Wood-elves and hobbits are an unstoppable force, book!verse with the tiniest smidge of movie!Aragorn, fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27920404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unnamed_Element/pseuds/UnnamedElement
Summary: There is a lot of learning that has to happen that first week on the road. Leadership looks very different on different people, and not all dear friends start out getting along... Pippin, Legolas, and Aragorn each learn a few lessons. / A Quest short story.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel & Legolas Greenleaf, Legolas Greenleaf & Pippin Took
Series: Writings from Wartime: The Fellowship (Collection) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028670
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted elsewhere in June 2016 with the following notes:
> 
> _Self-indulgent author's note: Life has been interesting these past few weeks. Though I have been writing prolifically, I have published nothing due to an overwhelming and paralyzing perfectionism (one of my excellent coping skills). Therefore, I've finally decided to just post this for fear of never taking that first step again if I don't do it now! So, this is a fun little story to shake me out of my funk-something less dark and complicated than I have been recently writing; a nice, formulaic little three-parter with less allegory than usual and some simple early-Fellowship friendship._
> 
> _Real author's note: I cut myself off from further meticulous editing of this section, so please do tell me if you catch any errors. I also did an ungodly amount of research as to the different names for the object colloquially known as a "slingshot" in American and Canadian English and a "catapult" or "hand catapult" in British English. After much gnashing of teeth, I settled on the American "slingshot," because that is what I am used to, and I couldn't quite wrap my head around the idea of "hand catapult" for some bizarre reason. Legolas also uses the word "sling" to refer to "slingshot," though a "sling" is also a different kind of weapon than a "slingshot." Please excuse the decisions._

* * *

**Lessons in Leadership**

* * *

**January 2, Third Age of the Sun 3019**   
**On the Road to Hollin**

Pippin had slipped from Gandalf and Merry with a plea and a whisper a few minutes before, and now—on the way back from relieving himself—he found Legolas checking his arrows some distance from camp. Pippin immediately sank cross-legged onto the ground beside the elf and watched as Legolas deepened the notch in one of his arrows with a short blade.

"What are you doing?" Pippin asked after some time, peering forward to watch the elf's hands work the wood.

"Fixing these arrows," Legolas answered. He glanced up at Pippin's wide and inquiring eyes.

"Why?"

"Because they are damaged," Legolas said, dropping his eyes again to his task. "Your inquisitiveness is endless."

"Yes," Pippin said simply. "I want to know everything there is to know about this world and the next, of you and of Gimli and of all our Company's strange lands. How did the arrows become damaged?"

"I am not precisely sure how, Pippin. Either from poor storage this journey or from reusing some of them that first hunt after Imladris."

"Well," Pippin proclaimed, and he watched Legolas' hands darkening and blending with the wood and shadows as they twitched in the almost imperceptibly fading light, "they do not look bad to me."

"They do not look bad, no. But they can still be dangerous."

Pippin laughed. Legolas puffed woodshavings from the notch and looked up at the hobbit seriously when Pippin again addressed him.

"Of _course_ they are dangerous—" Pippin cried with a grin. "They are _arrows_!"

"I mean, Pippin," Legolas clarified, "that damaged arrows can be dangerous to shoot. If I were to shoot an arrow without checking it, it could hurt me, and—if you were standing beside me—hurt you."

"Oh."

Legolas slipped the re-notched arrow back into his quiver and picked up another, glancing to check the sun's progress as he did so. The waning light caught at dark grey eyes, and he spat a strand of errant hair from his mouth.

Pippin's own eyes were watching Legolas closely and they sparkled a muted brown as he watched the elf watching him. He fingered the slingshot tucked into his belt by his dagger. Legolas continued to stare at him curiously until he was suddenly drawn by a movement above and to the left of them, and he sprang to his feet without warning.

"Look there, Pippin!" Legolas exclaimed, and pointed with ill-concealed delight. "That is a kite! We do not see them often in the North."

Pippin clambered to his feet and looked to where Legolas indicated and then swiveled to look up at the elf's excited face, and the elf's enthusiasm confused him… It was an odd declaration from an intelligent elf, a clearly false statement.

So Pippin frowned and said slowly and carefully as he peered up at Legolas' dark silhouette: "Now, you can call me mad, Legolas… But that is _certainly_ not a kite."

Legolas shrugged and squinted at the bird that swooped some distance away from them, and he did not turn to look at Pippin.

"I suppose I could be wrong," the elf admitted. "What is it then?"

"It is a _bird_ ," Pippin said warily, looking with true concern now at his companion.

"Yes," Legolas agreed, nodding and finally looking down at Pippin to meet his eyes evenly, "but it is _also_ a red kite."

Pippin was frustrated and he huffed before exclaiming: "Birds and kites are not the same _thing_ , Legolas!"

"But kites are a _type_ of bird," Legolas challenged calmly.

"No, birds are alive and fly of their own accord," Pippin explained slowly, worried that Legolas had suddenly become stupid or taken a fever. "Kites are made and flown by children in the breeze."

Legolas stared at the hobbit blankly for a moment and then burst into laughter. Pippin's lips unparted as he frowned at the sight. Legolas leaned forward to clasp his thighs in such a way than when he finally looked up from his mirthful fit his eyes were even with Pippin's own.

"Well, yes, indeed!" the elf exclaimed, breathless. " _Yes_ , kites are flown by children—I know that, Pippin. But kites are also a type of _bird_. A family or species, for example."

Pippin gasped so suddenly that Legolas felt the hair like a halo at his temples tremble against his cheeks, for the hobbit's inhalation had stirred the air between them.

"Oh!" Pippin breathed out. " _I_ would just call that a hawk, not a kite. I thought you were perhaps confused!"

"Well, I sometimes am confused, so it was kind of you to try to help," the elf said, grinning. "We do come from very different places, after all. You have a warm heart, Master Took."

"You are quite funny, Legolas."

"I do try, on occasion," Legolas countered with a wink and he gently touched the hobbit's cheek, and then let his fingers fall away quickly. "But we must not let all the others know _quite_ how much fun wood-elves can be."

"No, we will keep that truth to ourselves!"

"Excellent! So you will go with Boromir to fill the waterskins, and then you can join me. I am going for lingonberries, and we passed a few yellowing greens a quarter-hour back that looked like maybe celeriac, or fresh turnip."

"You know a lot, Legolas," Pippin said, standing and picking up the elf's waterskin and tying it onto his own belt.

"One learns quickly in Mirkwood. But you know a lot, too, and I am not as good at identifying mushrooms as I am at birds," Legolas straightened and then twisted his back from side to side to release the tension that had knotted from stooping half-curled at the hobbit's height. "So hurry up, Pippin!" He shook out his hands and brushed off his thighs out of habit before smiling. "Sam and Merry will be particularly pleased if you can find them some mushrooms. I would hate to poison us…"

"That would spoil the whole point of this mission, wouldn't it?"

"It would," Legolas said, voice suddenly vague as he squinted at the horizon where the sun was setting. "Now go on."

"Wait!" Pippin exclaimed, abruptly pointing and gripping the elf's wrist. He tugged, and Legolas turned to follow the direction of the hobbit's finger. "What is the kite _doing_?"

The bird had stopped swooping and was hovering about eight meters off the ground above the clearing, head fixed and lowered as its wings beat powerfully.

"Give me your sling, Pippin," Legolas said evenly, holding out a hand and not looking away from the bird; he squinted with concentration.

"Why?" Pippin gripped the handle of his slingshot firmly and squared his shoulders as Legolas' eyes flickered from bird to field and back again, as if calculating.

"If you want meat tonight, give me your sling," Legolas repeated with gentle emphasis, glancing down at Pippin briefly. "Have I failed yet in snagging game for you and your cousins?"

"No," Pippin said simply, and he relinquished his slingshot to the elf's outstretched hand.

"There is a rabbit, just there," Legolas said to Pippin, tilting his head to the side and taking the rock Pippin pressed into his hand. He slipped the stone into the sling's pouch and murmured a line of rhyme beneath his breath. When finished, he winked at the hobbit.

"Watch and learn, Pippin," the elf said.

And then he pulled back the sling, and he released.

Pippin watched with bated breath as the stone soared through the air in a precise and beautiful arc that he longed to replicate, and as the rock thunked against its target and the kite took off in a swoop—thoroughly disturbed by the stone that had beat him to his prey—Pippin whooped.


	2. Chapter 2

Back at camp, the Company listened to the solitary whoop fade into the coming night, and all the companions looked up quizzically.

"What was that?" Sam asked, dropping the oiled cloth he had been using on Frodo's blade.

Gandalf sighed: "That will be our young hobbit and not-so-young wood-elf."

Aragorn glanced up at Gandalf, and he heard Gimli exhale noisily to his right, but then he returned to his thoughts. Over the next few minutes, however, the noise grew into a duet of joyful cries and, finally, Gandalf stood and waved his hand.

"Go, Aragorn," the wizard said suddenly. "Bring them back and make them hush, before they bring every orc this side of the Misty Mountains down upon us."

Aragorn immediately stood, slipped his sword into his belt, and left the camp.

Behind him he heard the hobbits talking amongst themselves and Gimli questioning Gandalf about their course, but he focused ahead. After just a minute, Pippin and Legolas came into view, much closer to the camp than Aragorn had expected based on their earlier noise—perhaps Legolas had heard his approach and hurried the hobbit back to them.

Pippin hailed Aragorn. Dashing forward in the fading light, he tripped over a tussock of drying grass. He caught himself on an elbow and an outstretched hand and reversed the momentum to launch himself up again. Legolas followed calmly behind. The hobbit stopped just in front of Aragorn and looked up into the man's face with a wide smile.

"Hullo, Strider," Pippin said, as Legolas came to a stop behind him. "Legolas has taught me to hunt—whyever would you not do that on our earlier travels?"

Aragorn frowned and looked at Pippin but did not have time to respond before Pippin whipped round and held out his hands to Legolas expectantly. The elf lifted one of the hares draped over his shoulder and handed it to the hobbit, who cradled it to his chest like a loaf of bread.

Pippin turned back to Aragorn and tilted his head to the side, waiting for an answer, and Legolas chuckled softly and asked with amusement, "Yes, _Strider_ —whyever would you not make that foolish choice?"

The elf's eyes were sparkling but Aragorn was neither amused nor angry, just annoyed and at wit's end, and so he turned and gestured for them to follow.

"Come now," he said shortly.

And so Aragorn returned to the Company with Legolas and Pippin trailing, playing together a game of riddles.

However, as they stepped into camp, Legolas quieted. He clasped his hands in front of him and dipped his head to Gandalf and spoke immediately, and deferently. It surprised Aragorn, for he did not realize Legolas knew why they had been fetched.

"I am sorry we were loud, Mithrandir," the elf said, eyes downcast. "I was teaching Pippin to hunt with his sling, and I was unexpectedly swept away in the moment. It was irresponsible; but I did pause to listen to the wind and the whispers of stone and grass before we began, and they spoke no warning but of the coming of night."

Gandalf said nothing at first, eyes flicking between the elf's dipped head and Pippin's innocent and confused face several times before returning decidedly to the elf. Aragorn noted that Legolas did not look up to meet the wizard's eyes until Gandalf _humphed_ and muttered, "Pippin should be hunting no more than mushrooms."

"And yet here I am on this journey to Mordor," Pippin said with confidence, sensing permission to speak. "And we have _rabbit_!" He announced gaily; he held up his rabbit and smiled. "It is not so bad."

"Hush, you fool, and do not speak of that place," Gandalf said sharply. "And do not become too arrogant or I shall send you back to the Shire bound and gagged, perhaps with your new-found tutor as escort."

Legolas met Gandalf's eyes and flushed. Pippin dropped the rabbit to his side with a heavy _thump_ and chewed the inside of his cheek. Gandalf stared at the elf for several long moments, and there was utter silence about the camp except for the rustling of winter grasses around them.

Finally, the wizard stirred and smiled ever so slightly, nodding his forgiveness. The elf breathed a sigh of relief, bowed his head again, and suppressed a grin by biting his lower lip.

Aragorn watched the exchange without speaking. Legolas was more free with his expression than most elves Aragorn knew, and while he had agreed with Elrond and Gandalf that Legolas should come with them for the elves, he was still sometimes unsettled by this difference (though it did seem to endear the elf more to Boromir than a more noble representative might, and his easiness seemed agreeable even to Gimli).

Aragorn leaned closer to Gandalf as Legolas tapped Pippin on the shoulder and bent low from the waist, hands on his knees.

"You should not have asked the wood-elf to keep track of our mischievous hobbit, old friend," Aragorn whispered quietly to the wizard, and he watched Legolas bundle Pippin away to the outer edge of camp, gently tugging the rabbit from his arms.

"And _you_ should not discriminate, Aragorn, indulging High Elf untruths of the First Age," Gandalf replied evenly, not looking away from the scene in front of him.

"I know Legolas well enough! I am not discrim—"Aragorn protested, but he was interrupted by Boromir who stood at Gandalf's shoulder, absently palming the pommel of his sword.

"But now you have more mischief on your hands," Boromir pointed out; he nodded at the edge of camp, where Pippin stood as Legolas crouched beside him, gesturing to Merry and gently shoving an armful of waterskins into the hobbit's chest. _We have amends to make, young hobbit,_ Aragorn heard the elf say with a smile and quiet laugh as he winked at Pippin.

"You make much of his being a wood-elf," Boromir said thoughtfully as Pippin stumbled past them then; he grabbed Merry by the sleeve and headed for the trickling stream where Bill the Pony drank. Gimli hovered beside Sam and Frodo and checked Sam's work on Frodo's blade, pointedly ignoring the conflict around him.

" _Wood-elves_ make much of being wood-elves," Aragorn murmered under his breath, passing a hand over his eyes and rolling out the kinks in his neck—these first days had gone smoother than he expected, and yet were more difficult than leading his folk in the North. He had not yet figured out how to predict his company's patterns and was ever-grateful to Gandalf, and while he sensed the potential for an instinctual partnership between himself and the elf, he had not yet determined how to tend it, nor had he tried, apart from their fleeting connection on the river. It alluded him, and he was tired.

As Aragorn turned his attention again to Gandalf, the wizard finally looked upon both Men and said to them tersely: "Legolas is not stupid." Aragorn flinched. "You would do well to remember that."

Aragorn nodded sharply and felt duly reprimanded but no less annoyed, and he glanced over to where Legolas sat at the edge of camp. He saw the elf smile at Gandalf's words—thoroughly amused, it seemed—as he dug a hole over which to skin the rabbit.

Legolas looked up, then, and met Aragorn's eyes. Aragorn frowned, and Legolas raised his own eyebrows and tilted his head to the side querulously.

Aragorn did not move but did hold his gaze. Legolas slipped the small knife he had been using to dig into his belt, and he stood. He held out his hand to Aragorn as an invitation, and Aragorn took a step forward and took it. Legolas tugged him a few feet away and then crossed his arms, suddenly outwardly peevish.

"I know what you would say to me," the elf said quietly. "And you do not know me as well as you think you do."

Aragorn rubbed a hand over his face again and sighed; this was not what he had expected.

He took a deep breath and let the air rush into his lungs; he closed his eyes for a moment and stretched his hearing all around him, felt his feet connected to the ground and his heartbeat slow—he was calm again. He opened himself to discussion and conflict, and he opened his eyes to the barely suppressed storm of energy emanating from the wood-elf in front of him. He reminded himself that Legolas was here for a reason and had been fighting the Darkness for more years than he himself had even walked Arda, and, finally, he spoke.

"And what is it I would say, Legolas?" Aragorn asked.

Legolas leaned across the distance between them until he was so close Aragorn was forced to look into his face. His eyes locked with the elf's, which no longer sparkled, but were instead hard and lusterless as slate in a dry winter.

...Perhaps this would be harder than he thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Legolas mis-remembers Bandobras "Bullroarer" Took as "Bull-something;" Bandobras' story, in part, can be found mentioned in the Hobbit. The reference to a Took marrying a 'faerie' is part of the Took-family mythology (canon), to explain away, arguably, the family's peculiar "otherworldliness" and adventure-lust. The conversation about the crown and the stars is inspired by a scene in "The Riders of Rohan" (Two Towers):
> 
> _"..I am not weaponless." Aragorn threw back his cloak. The elven-sheath glittered as he grasped it, and the bright blade of Andúril shone like a sudden flame as he swept it out. 'Elendil!' he cried. 'I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnedan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!'_
> 
> _Gimli and Legolas looked at their companion in amazement, for they had not seen him in this mood before. He seemed to have grown in stature while Éomer had shrunk; and in his living face they caught a brief vision of the power and majesty of the kings of stone. **For a moment it seemed to the eyes of Legolas that a white flame flickered on the brows of Aragorn like a shining crown.** Éomer stepped back and a look of awe was in his face. He cast down his proud eyes. _

* * *

_...And what is it I would say, Legolas?_

* * *

Legolas considered Aragorn for several more seconds. They were close enough to one another that when a sudden cool breeze picked up Aragorn's hair from his brow, it tickled Legolas' nose, and the elf pulled away suddenly and made a face as if he might sneeze.

"Well," Legolas amended, shaking his head then and finally answering Aragorn's question. "I know what _Mithrandir_ would say."

Aragorn shifted his weight onto his heels and crossed his arms, too. "And what is that?" Aragorn asked him.

The elf stared at Aragorn for a moment more and then leaned back so he stood utterly straight. He did not immediately speak, but his eyes flitted from the curve in Aragorn's brows to the tension at the corners of his mouth, and then his nostrils flared and he shrugged; it seemed to Aragorn as if Legolas had suddenly decided something.

"Well," Legolas replied conspiratorially, and he wrapped his arms further around his abdomen so his hands gripped the back of his ribs as he leaned forward again, now eagerly. "Shall I do my impression?"

The tension broke. Aragorn was caught off guard by such a fickle shift and he could not help but ask: "Is this something you do often, Legolas? Impersonate our wizard?"

"Only when the occasion calls for it, of course," the elf replied. "But you must not tell Mithrandir for he has known me long."

"Go on, then," Aragorn assented.

Legolas nodded and took a deep breath, and Aragorn raised his eyebrows, waiting.

"Gandalf would say," the elf said, and then he paused and dropped his hands to his hips, raising his shoulders slightly and curving them in. His brows pinched downward and he leaned forward from the hips and widened his stance.

When Legolas spoke again—his voice surprisingly lower—Aragorn found himself smiling despite his annoyance.

"Legolas Greenleaf!" the elf mimicked. "You are not on rest rotation from the King's Army. Do not make me regret proposing a Wood-elf for this quest!"

Legolas crossed his arms again and resumed a relaxed stance—clearly himself again—and he cocked his head as he watched Aragorn, as if expecting a response.

Aragorn did not know what to say and so he did not at first speak. After a moment, he sat down on the ground and gestured for Legolas to join him. Legolas sat and smoothed the creases from his trousers; Aragorn tightened the tie of his cloak for it was cold and then spoke:

"That was an accurate interpretation of what I imagine Gandalf would say."

"I know," Legolas said simply, and he smiled at Aragorn before his face became suddenly serious and he reached his hand out and placed it on Aragorn's knee. "But I _know_ this is not a hobbit-walking party, Aragorn, and _you_ know I know that. I am young, yes, though older than most here, but I am no longer naïve or green in the ways of the world. I have been tested for years and repeatedly proved my mettle."

Aragorn looked down and stared at the hand on his knee, and he could see the edge of a callus on Legolas' palm and a long pearlescent scar that ran the length of his hand, disappearing from view in his sleeve.

"I have taught dozens of young soldiers to sling in the past several centuries," Legolas continued, "and never has a single one injured themselves. _I_ am more likely to come to harm when I try to avert a disaster my trainees do not see. Pippin was at no risk of harm today. I was chosen to come with you for a reason, Aragorn—you must trust in my strengths."

Legolas withdrew his hand and pushed a wisp of hair out of his face before clasping both hands in his lap.

Aragorn sighed, and he was frustrated, because he knew Legolas was right and that his exhaustion and frustration had tempted him into reacting.

"It is just," Aragorn began, and then faltered. "Pippin must know that this is not how to behave on a mission that relies entirely on secrecy. He is not yet wise enough to understand the differences between rejoicing when one _knows_ they are safe, and rejoicing whenever the fancy strikes. He is not a soldier, Legolas. He is a hobbit of the Shire—a child still, in their reckoning!—and he does not see the world as we do."

Legolas nodded and glanced back to camp, and there was a flash of sadness in his eyes as he spoke. "Aye, and that is where I have erred, Aragorn, and I am sorry."

They looked at one another and Legolas tilted his head and dipped it toward the ground; he looked up with eyes wide and sparkling when he finally spoke.

"You inspire commitment, Aragorn, and I believe in your mission; I accept your rebuke. I will follow you, I think, past the mountains to whatever end. I want to see you succeed with my very own eyes, for this is the age of Men, and I would see their glory restored, with you as their just and fair leader—my people, too, rely on this success."

Aragorn stared at Legolas and felt himself blush slightly.

"But for all your airs and commitment to your destiny, heir of Isildur," Legolas continued before Aragorn could reply, "you are not yet confident enough..."

"Excuse me?" Aragorn was startled.

"You do not believe that your troop will follow you, Aragorn, and that is unacceptable."

Aragorn frowned at Legolas and felt immediately defensive. "Perhaps you are confident enough for the both of us, Master Elf," he muttered and scowled, and Legolas laughed. "I have commanded men from North to South and East to West these past years. I have no doubt I will be heeded when called upon."

"Ah," Legolas said lightly, before falling absolutely serious again. "But you have not, I think—in all your wandering—ever commanded a crew so motley as we."

They stared at one another for a minute, and Aragorn felt several feelings rise simultaneously inside him. Legolas sat motionless beside him, apart from the recalcitrant hair that crowned his face and caught at his brow in the wind, and he tilted his head to the side—

"Command me, Aragorn," the elf finally said, quietly.

Aragorn blinked. "What did you say?" 

"I said, c _ommand_ me, Aragorn. _Practice_."

Aragorn scoffed as the elf squinted at him expectantly.

"I cannot command on _command!_ " Aragorn protested.

"A chief of the Dunedain and a student of Lord Elrond cannot command his companion?" Legolas asked incredulously.

"You have been trained surely in court all your life! Commanding is not a skill to be played at as a game," Aragorn argued, and Legolas raised his eyebrows disbelievingly and smiled ruefully.

"Hm," he said, "you must remember that I am from Mirkwood, Aragorn—I have been trained not in court, but in _military_ life, and woodcraft... Besides, I assure you, there is nothing a wild and reckless wood-elf can teach you that you do not already know, somewhere inside yourself."

Aragorn crossed his arms and looked at the expression on Legolas' face—equal parts amused and concerned and, Aragorn thought, possibly homesick.

"You are surprisingly wise and it unsettles me," Aragorn finally replied in defeat.

"Ah yes, so I have been told," Legolas murmured dismissively; he patted Aragorn's knee again and left it there, tutting. "Now, Aragorn, as I said, _command_ me."

Aragorn frowned and felt a wave of consternation sweep through him before glaring at the elf and pushing off his hand with force—he would not be condescended to, as if he were a child!

"Well?" Legolas dropped both hands into his lap as he watched Aragorn's shifting mood with a twitch of his lips.

"You will _not_ tell me what to do, nor touch me so intimately, Legolas!" Aragorn spat in frustration.

To his surprise, Legolas did not recoil nor look upset at the sudden outburst, but said impishly instead—as if he had expected such a reaction—"And why ever not?"

"Because I _said_ so," Aragorn hissed, and then deflated.

"Indeed," Legolas mused. "For sometimes there is no time to explain, and orders must simply be followed. I will not speak to you again thusly, Aragorn."

"I did not mean—" Aragorn began, but Legolas smiled and tucked his braid into the collar of his tunic before waving off Aragorn's apology.

"It does not matter what you meant. You and Gandalf are our leaders and we follow your word, or we should. If you lead us to ruin, so be it—it will be my own fault for yielding to you!—but a good leader is not built on wary followers."

Aragorn smiled and felt a sudden wave of relief cut through him.

"But now is really not the time to allow for jest, Legolas," Aragorn said. "We were speaking seriously, and I have been rather rude."

"Oh, I do not jest," Legolas said lightly, standing and holding out a hand, which Aragorn gratefully took, somewhat confused by the conversation. He hauled himself to his feet and, when he rebounded slightly, grabbed the elf's upper arm to steady himself.

"Listen, Aragorn," Legolas said firmly, stopping Aragorn from pulling away by squeezing his arm to his ribs and trapping there the hand Aragorn had used to steady himself. "I would count you as my _friend_ as well as my commander, if you will have me. Only have I ever followed those who deserve it, and you, I think, do." Legolas was quiet for a moment, squinting as if in thought. "But I will quit with fooling with Pippin, as you have requested."

"Do not quit fooling with him entirely, please," Aragorn replied, dusting off the seat of his pants when Legolas finally released his arm; he jerked his head back toward the camp where the hobbits awaited their return. "He needs it and you can curb him—secondary to Merry—as we continue on this folly adventure."

Legolas shrugged and looked unconcerned as he answered: "For a worthy cause, Aragorn, I will lead or follow unto death, no matter how folly. I am not the grandson of Oropher for nothing! Just as Pippin is maybe related to Bandobras 'Bull- _something_ ,' that great Orc-cleaver of North- _somewhere_. And, did you know, his great-great-great-great grandfather perhaps married a _faerie_?"

Legolas grinned then and looked like a puckish child; Aragorn felt a strange urge to cuff him upside the head.

"How do you know all that, Legolas? How do you even know what a Took _is_?"

"Oh! Just because I do not speak of anything of import, does not mean I do not _listen_ to others' chatter, important and idle alike. I have learned much about our Company since the Council," he answered, smiling, before seriously continuing. "My point is, Aragorn, that whatever the case, we are all—here—of doughty folk; we know the risks of our loyalty, and our duties."

Aragorn shook himself and placed his hands on his belt, glancing over his shoulder to assess their companions' location before giving Legolas direction; he decided to ignore, for now, the elf's admission to a penchant for eavesdropping...

"Go then," Aragorn finally sighed. "Back to camp. We will make dinner and I will take counsel with Gandalf."

Legolas nodded and they walked together a few long strides until Legolas sank down again to where he had sat before their conversation. He withdrew his short blade from his belt as Aragorn walked away and had set it to the ground to finish clearing out the pit for rabbit-cleaning, before he seemed to think twice; he looked up.

"Aragorn," Legolas called as he slipped his knife back into his belt, and crossed his legs in front of him.

Aragorn glanced over his shoulder, and, at the look on Legolas' face, he strode back and crouched immediately on the ground beside him, eyebrows raised in concern.

"I saw you when we set out, as if in a vision," the elf admitted quietly, and he grasped Aragorn's shoulder with an exigent intensity. "I saw a crown of _stars_ upon your brow—lit as if aflame—with my very own eyes, Aragorn. Clear as day, though fleeting." Legolas dropped his hand from Aragorn's shoulder. "I do not only believe in my heart that you will succeed, but I know it in my soul." He brushed his hands out over his breeches before looking up again, directly into Aragorn's eyes, and finished: "So do not take my loyalty lightly, Lord, for that is the only way you will lose it."

There was a breath of silence, and then Aragorn placed a gentle hand on the elf's shoulder in return.

"I will never take lightly your word, my friend," Aragorn murmured, and then he leaned forward so they were eye to eye. "You have earned my trust, Legolas."

"And you mine," Legolas whispered, nodding and waving Aragorn off, already turning back to his task and glancing around for the location of the hare. "And I think we have both learned our separate lessons."

Aragorn smiled, and spoke simply: "Indeed."


End file.
